At The Devils Feet - Sunday 10/04/11

Henry David Thoreau's Walden is rapidly becoming my bible and creed. If I were a believer in re-incarnation, I would swear that this man was myself in a previous existence. Although he was obviously more disciplined, not having impregnated a girl at the age of 17. I envy his freedom and fear the loneliness of the life he describes. Whilst I could abandon my now second time pregnant partner and young daughter as could any truly free being, I live in terror of my conscience. I am petrified of myself even if I follow what I know to be my life's true course and calling. My battle at this moment in time is to fight that calling with every fibre of my being until the day I can act upon it without regret. I know this to be pure folly. A foolish idea that will inevitably find me prostrate at the Devil's feet begging for another chance to live my life how I want to live it. I am aware I have always felt trapped and emotionally blackmailed into servitude of my 'lover' and it is my own moral code that binds my being and soul to her and my daughter. My daughter who has become a dear friend to me compounding my heartache further still. In the past, I once attempted suicide in the belief it would grant me the release I crave. I know now that the answer lies not in the darkness, but here in the light of this life, presently just out of reach.
Thoreau's work has become to me, akin to a pornographic magazine. Naughty. Taboo. Forbidden. I can only read a small portion at a time before my lust and envy grow too strong to bear. I flirt with the dream, then reason with my poor heart and convince my disturbed mind that what is portrayed within this books covers will never be mine.
It is in moments of bitter confusion like this that I pine for a cigarette. Could it be I enter a 'Self Destruct' mode? If that which I desire can never be mine then what point is there to this miserable existence?
If I were my own counsel I would advise myself to burn the book and never dare read another page. Ugly filth such as tobacco and nicotine are easy to live without, beautiful literature is not.

M Jones

Non-Smoking - Tuesday 08/03/11

The final shackle has been picked and I am free! After reading Allen Carr's Easy Way to Stop Smoking, I'm the Non Smoker I used to be. I could give you my opinion etc and tell every nicotine addict its a must read before stopping. But it would only benefit smokers who have realised its a mugs game and truly want to break out of the cycle.
For a while I was a bit confused what to do with my tobacco. I didn't want to keep it and hide it somewhere. If I gave it to someone, that meant I could recall it as a debt. So I spread it on the grass. Ashes to ashes. Dirty filthy weed.
Despite only having stopped for 6 hours so far, I have noticed a marked difference in my breathing and performance. The iron bands I had once kept clamping on my chest are breaking away.
Yippee! I'm a Non-Smoker!

Not your average butchers shop...

Ying and Yang

Poisoning the orchard with the dreaded weed.

All gone.

Time to fight them English landowners.

M Jones

'Jonesing' - Saturday 18/12/10

Nigel from next door popped round during a morning game of chess with Kit. Primarily, he wanted to 'Jones' some tobacco. He also wished to know if we were planning on venturing to Crymych that day. No one else is able it would seem due to the snow and ice. My mighty 4x4 cares not a jot for it. Not only did I end up with a shopping list , but also a shovel and a tow rope. Unfortunately, without grit or perhaps snow chains, my truck couldn't grip enough to tow. We managed to extricate one car after the neighbours son freed his van, but that was it.
Good deeds done for the day, and neighbours resupplied, the evening soon skipped past as Kit and I played a few more games of chess.
3 more centimeters of snow fell and the night got extremely cold. I dare say my 4x4 will be called upon again.

M Jones